


ADVENT

by rey_exe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Altar Sex, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cults, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Skinny Dipping, Soulmates, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey (Star Wars), followed swiftly by, kylo want's a new job, like you don't even KNOW how soulmated they are, rey is an animal whisperer, seasonal deity shenanigans, with a whole lot of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2020-12-15 23:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21026669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rey_exe/pseuds/rey_exe
Summary: The secluded northern village of Jakku sits at the cusp of the land of Death. To ensure their way of life is undisturbed by the brutal winter a tax must be paid: A maid born of spring to warm the bed of Death’s emissary, Kylo Ren.Despite her best efforts, Rey is chosen to be that very maid. Not one to be thrown into the jaws of a faceless beast, Rey makes a decision that will alter her fate, and the fate of the world forever.





	1. Chosen

_ _

_Mighty Ruler, Wise one,_

_Striver, Wolfspeaker,_

_Welcomed one, Pale one._

#  [Alfadhirhaiti - Heilung](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wy-W-pYlds)

The crunch of feet on snow startles Rey from her silent vigil. 

She watches with pursed lips as torchlight flickers through the windows and beneath the door, anxiety in every line of her body. 

One sunset prior, she and two other girls had been lead to a sanctuary. One of four that encompassed the village. She, Kaydel and Tallie were stripped to their shifts and anointed with blood while the elders spoke in tongues around them. They were then lead to the other three churches. Each girl locked in a large drafty building to fast and pray in solitude while the festivities were readied beyond. Each forced to listen to the gleeful laughter and harsh barks and howls in exaltation of what was to come.

Few things were quite as _ stirring _ as human sacrifice. 

The week leading up to the winter ritual was a chaotic and joyous affair. One that all were required to participate in. Rey would have loved nothing more than to spend that time in the woods hunting, but she was a contestant this year. 

She had starved herself to keep her cycle away. She had turned herself into a wraith of a girl and away it had stayed until the summer of her twentieth year. There had been no hiding the blood. She had been found by the river, red sheets and small clothes in hand, scrubbing furiously as though it would expunge her death warrant. 

The village had taken vicious delight in the prospect of her sacrifice and Rey had wept bitterly in her nest of hay as her stomach cramped.

Though they shared the same potential fate, the other girls were of little comfort. They disliked her as much as the rest and in the weeks that followed, ignored her at every turn. They chatted idly amongst themselves as they adorned the altar they would be stolen from. They wondered if the Night King would be kind, or if they’d be whisked away and locked in his harem along with the other chosen. 

Rey listened with a scowl as they composed outlandish stories to keep the horror of their future at bay. She lived at the edge of the forest, she heard their screams and they were not of pleasure.

Kaydel had claimed she’d crept to the ritual site and saw him with her own two eyes, _ insisting _ he was handsome as a prince and ravished that Winter’s maid atop the alter with unrivaled passion. 

They giggled and joked and romanticized as spring-harvested flora was strewn across the dais. Rey could not blame them, not really. But she would not allow herself to fall into the trap they set for themselves.

Were he to kiss her or kill her, she vowed to hate Death’s winter pawn regardless.

In fact, so opposed was she to the prospect of being taken away, Rey hid a knife in the nest of candles and greenery. It was a foolish endeavor, one that might very well give the villagers a body to bury for once, but it was worth the risk. 

Rey hadn’t bothered to pray when she was forced to her knees before the shrine –– an ugly thing piled high with wolf bones and skulls that leered horribly down at her –– resolving to count the sparks that snapped in her tiny fire instead. She lost count a handful of times as her mind began to wander. Had the others felt as she did now? Had they shivered and cried in these tiny churches as they listened to their friends and neighbors crow and yowl like beasts?

Rey could not shake her growing dread. Every hour, every mocking scratch of nails against the door awoke something feral within her. 

The logic she so desperately clung to had abandoned her. Even the knowledge that Tallie was a much more likely contender brought her little comfort.

For decades the March-born girls had been taken, why would Winter’s king choose another?

The first phase of spring was cold radiance. Life awakened; when the snow gave way under bleak sunlight and the animals roused from their slumber. He had paid no mind to the middle, when flora burst into bloom and new life was born, or to the end, the heralding of summer when the breeze began to warm and life is lush and abundant. 

_ Surely _ it would be Tallie. . .

Mistress Niima beckons to her silently from the open doorway, the lines of her face carved deep in the candle light. A harsh gust of wind makes the fire gutter. Rey doesn’t want to move, she wants to bury herself in her scraps of fur and hide until the thaw.

But she clambers to her feet, chin raised in defiance, mourning the loss of her warm furs as she walks towards the door and out into the night.

The silence is immediate and unnerving. Like someone had placed glass overtop of the land. Even the snow seemed hushed as fat flakes tumbled from the heavens. There lingered a few boys just beyond the sanctuary, hoping to catch a glimpse of the women in their thin undergarments. Rey bared her teeth at the few that scrambled past with feral barks, howls, and sneers. 

Her escort remained quiet as the grave as she led her past them to the center of the village. 

In summers past, Rey had climbed to the top of the smallest mountain that encompassed the village. To get away from the oppressive heat, to explore. She had climbed so high that she could see Jakku as the birds did. The odd formation of buildings, shaped like a roundel. A bullseye with its weathered buildings forming eight spokes that circled the village center. 

It was such a disconcertingly precise shape that Rey began seeing the ugly thing everywhere. Subtly carved into the trees at the forest’s edge, burned into door frames. They seemed not to have existed until she clapped eyes on them.

Only her tiny shack at the village’s edge was exempt from the formation.

She’s led down those hated spoked roads now. Glaring up at the candle-lit windows that loom overhead, Rey can hear the roar of the bonfire ahead, its orange light casting eerie shadows along the alleyways and across the snow. The villagers that stoked it looked demonic from this far away. Not yet masked as they would be later, but clad in their heavy wolf fur capes, faces painted. 

She can see the other girls as they are led through the dark to the fire. Their faces are wan, dark smudges under their eyes. Rey wonders if she looks as drawn as they do. Kaydel seems like she might burst into tears and Tallie was near vomiting. Rey hardly fairs better as she watches Plutt waddle through the gathering crowd.

He stands before the blazing fire, a manic grin on his face as the village converged, forming an impenetrable circle around them.

“My dear family!” he booms, throwing his arms wide like an entertainer. “I bid you welcome on this holy night.”

The silence is fractured by a sharp sniffle. It’s Tallie’s mother, clutching her husband and staring at her daughter from the ring of onlookers like she was a corpse already. It incites a pang of envy and sorrow that nearly makes Rey’s knees buckle. She tries to feel an ounce of empathy but can’t muster it, dragging her gaze back toward the hateful man before her.

There was no one that would mourn her if she was chosen. No one to fret over her life or virtue. 

She was the strange outsider; the unlucky child that sowed misfortune wherever she went. They would be glad to be rid of her.

Plutt shoots Tallie’s mother a look of sugary, false sympathy, barreling on with his speech. “This night in which a beloved daughter will brave the winter and face its king to bless our frigid land.”

Rey bites her tongue so hard she tastes the copper tang of blood. 

Tallie trembles so hard at her side she nearly reaches for her. Kaydel is simply frozen, staring at the fire with glassy, unseeing eyes.

For all of their unkindness, they did not deserve this. Nor did any other girl who came before. Nor did _ she _. 

Plutt lurches forward a heartbeat later, grabbing Tallie harshly by the arm. She thrashes against him for an instant before stilling, the near-demonic expression that twists his wide face quelling her instantly. He drags her towards the fire, producing a gleaming knife from his belt. 

Rey can see Tallie shaking from where she stands, fear reaching a crescendo as a hysterical sob rips from her throat. She’s wise enough not to struggle again, not even as the blade is dragged across her palm. Her squeal of pain is drowned by the harsh snap of the fire as her blood spills across it.

The crowd holds its breath as the flames sputter.

Rey’s appalled with herself as she finds she is praying Tallie will be chosen. 

_ Let it be her, _she begs the moon, the snow, anything that will listen. She vows to run far away if she’s spared. Let it be Tallie and she’ll flee south where the flowers always bloom and the ice doesn’t kill. Let it be Tallie. 

But nothing happens. 

The flames remain orange and unchanged in their pyre.

Tallie’s knees nearly buckle with relief. She hobbles back to her place in line, palm clutched to her chest as Plutt whirls to face Rey.

She won’t cry. She refuses to cry as the crowd begins to buzz excitedly, the oppressively solemn veil giving way to something sinister. 

Instinct has her fighting against Plutt as his meaty fist closes around her forearm. That feral thing stirring within once more.

Her eyes are wide and frantic as she looks for an escape she knows isn’t there. The congregation seems to knit tighter together, nearing the fire and the girl as though they mean to toss her into the pyre instead of the maw of the beast. 

The knife is not so swift this time. She can feel Plutt grinning, the heat of his breath ghosting across her cheek as he drags the steel slowly across her hand. Rey grits her teeth so hard her jaw aches.Her lips purse against the cruel pain. He nearly shoves her whole hand into the open flames as her blood pours.

For a moment, nothing happens. 

The village holds its breath once more. 

The very blaze seems to freeze against the ink black night before it disappears completely. 

Not even embers glitter through the blackened wood.

They squint through the sudden darkness. Confusion evident in their frightened silence.

The fire roars back to life so fiercely it makes Rey scream and tumble back into Plutt’s side. The pillar that reaches skyward blocks out the moon. Black and violet and blue tongues lick her palm, threatening to devour her whole right there had she not thrown herself violently back, slipping gracelessly from Plutt’s grasp as she hit the ground.

This was not right. 

Frantically she fights to recall the winters past. Not once had this occurred. Not even close.

The flames were supposed to _ grey _ and gutter at the blood of the chosen. 

Rey does the unthinkable and looks to Niima for answers. She looks as bewildered as Rey feels, brows drawn and mouth open. Plutt was cowering some several paces away and Tallie and Kaydel were nowhere to be seen. 

None of her history lessons had ever mentioned such an occurrence. Rey tries to assure herself that this was a fluke. That Jakku had angered Death and his winter emissary by offering _ her _. 

A cheer breaks the crowd’s silence as the pillar of black flame dissipates. Their whoops of joy spread like disease as Plutt gathered himself and stalked towards her. She is hoisted to her feet, her still-bleeding hand thrown skyward like she was a victor. The roar of the village is deafening and overwhelming. So much so that Rey is barely aware that her palm is stained jet black.

Their jubilation makes her feel sicker than she had been just moments before. 

Rey watches bitterly as Tallie’s mother weeps and kisses her daughter’s broken palm in relief, holding her close. 

Mistress Niima takes ahold of her then, steering her through the crowd with a small fleet of other woman in tow. She would be cleansed and adorned now, anointed with oil and set on an altar like a suckling pig.

“Will you present me with an apple in my mouth?” These were the first words she had spoken in days. The sass comes out raspy as a cat’s tongue and earns her a sharp slap across the back of her head. 

They file through the streets once more, towards the chapel nearest the forest. The one the community worshiped in unitedly. The one crafted entirely from bone. Though Rey avoided it at all cost, she felt as though the ivory spires watched her. There was no place in the Jakku where it was not visible. Not even her hut at the edge of the village could escape its glare.

Rey had only ever set foot in the sanctuary a handful of times. The last resulted in such a fit that Plutt had reluctantly granted her freedom. No matter how far she roamed on those nights of worship, the growling chants followed her. Their voices rang through the trees and up to the mountains. It was fanatical and frightening and Rey wanted no part in it. 

Perhaps that was simply another reason for them to hate her. 

Now their heretic and permanent thorn in their side was to be set before their deities.

When Rey is certain her hands and feet are frozen solid, she is ushered into the vestry. The room is so brightly illuminated she finds herself blinking hard to clear her vision. Hundreds upon hundreds of skulls grin down at her. Man and beast alike from rough-hewn floor to ceiling. The fire crackles nearby throws them into sharp relief. 

At the center of the room is a tub. Spirals of steam billow from its surface. Niima is leading her towards it at such a rapid pace Rey fears she’ll be thrown into it head first. Numb feet stumble as they meet the pelts that line the ground. Niima lets out a scoff as she rights Rey again with a jerk of her arm.

The women converge the moment she is still, reaching to strip the tattered shift from her body. She wasn’t ashamed of her nakedness. They often bathed together. Yet their scrutiny and unkind hands incite a desire to cling to her garments and kick them away. They work swiftly though, and the feeling vanishes instantly as she is shoved unceremoniously into the tub. Rey can still hear her own indignant squawk as her head is submerged. 

She can’t recall the last time she had been so thoroughly scrubbed. Perhaps it was when she was too small to live alone? Niima wouldn’t have a filthy little urchin in her home. The water is almost blistering and her skin flushes a vibrate pink from heat and vigorous washing. It stings her hand, still alarmingly black from the fire. Rey examines it surreptitiously, half tempted to ask but keeping her mouth shut at the venomous look Niima gives her. The women avoid it altogether as they clean her, the only place they avoid. 

There is nowhere else they do not scrub, drawing forth furious hisses as unfriendly hands run soapy rags between her thighs. Rey is restrained as she wriggles. A harsh slap is delivered across her face by Niima, cowing her, though not before a glare as sharp as glass is thrown at the old hag.

A basin of fresh water is doused over her head, followed by another to rinse the soap from her body. The girl nearly falls to the floor as she is yanked from the tub and hastily toweled dry. Hands wring sopping hair, sponging dark locks as she shoved before the fire.

“You know what is expected of you.” drawls Niima, looking down her crooked nose.

“I-”

“_Do not interrupt me, girl!_” It takes everything in her not to shrink at the tone. “He will come when the light of the moon spills upon the altar. You _will_ _not resist_ him. Not when he takes you, not when he takes you away. Am I clear?”

Rey nodded, throat suddenly tight and tongue heavy.

“It is no higher honor than to serve your people. We will survive another winter because of your noble sacrifice.” Beady eyes narrow meanly in her face as she adds, almost as an afterthought, “And we will finally be rid of you.”

The girl remains impassive at the barbed comment, refusing to give them the satisfaction as a few of the women titter in agreement –– though not Daaé, who had the decency to look mildly sick at their words. 

Rey tries to catch the eye of the pretty blonde that appeared at her side, but those blue eyes are quick to dart away, anxious and uncertain. Daaé was kind enough. An outsider much the same as she, though not nearly as detested. Where Rey was scorned, Daaé was pitied. Her husband had left her after the birth of their son; though no one but Rey knew it was because she was deeply in love with another man. They simply assumed he was wicked.

She had entrusted Rey with this information, which made her dismissal all the more painful. 

The halls of the Winter King and a freezing journey to Death would be bliss compared to another year of torment. 

The women crowd around her on hands and knees, cushioned by the stacks of fur. Heady scented oils and balms are rubbed into her skin until she is dizzy from the smell of it. Niima began to chant in that same guttural language that had echoed through the trees, drawing near to anoint Rey herself. A wizened finger is dragged across her brow, over each breast, and atop her pubic mound.

It made her want to sneeze, eyes watering as she blinked rapidly, nearly missing the kohl that was brought forward next. The women converge yet again, painting indecipherable runes across her skin. 

Their tools dig harshly into her flesh as if wishing them permanently etched in her skin. Four women work at each of her arms, another four at her legs. Two at her torso, and three at her back. She’s bent and posed like a doll to their whims. Forced to hold so still that outstretched limbs trembled. 

Niima had her face, those hated fingers gripping her jaw too tightly. Eyes squeeze shut as the black paste is smeared across her lids and across the bridge of her nose. It’s dragged all the way up to her hairline until she was very nearly masked by it. Delicate runes are swirled across her cheeks and lips and chin, a contrast to the harsh stripe that stretched from ear to ear. 

The rest of the women take up Niima’s chant as they rise to their feet to pull another shift over her head, this one clean and finer than any could ever hope to wear. They then lead her to the door. 

The village had gathered outside as she was bathed. Their masks and party attire now donned. Red and black and bone. Holding torches and grinning. It was like descending into hell. Like death had yanked her soul through those black flames.

They flank her path, watching in silence as she is prodded out the door and into the snow. Her way was paved by red berries sprinkled like droplets of blood across the snow. The moment the door snaps shut behind her, the drums begin.

Her heart beats in tandem with it, adrenaline spiking, demanding she run. Hands steady her as if sensing this desire. Holding her fast for what was to come.

Her crown. The winter maid’s crown: the skull of a wolf decked with the rare, velvet covered antlers of a doe, bedazzled with winter greens and glass beads.

Rey had caught glimpses of the ugly thing from a distance in the past. It looked heavy, horrifyingly uncomfortable. And it was indeed all of those things.

A shiver trills down her spine as it settles over her brow, nearly eclipsing her vision. 

Rey can just see beyond the congregation the tables piled high with all manner of food and drink. Holly boughs, greens, snow drops and pinecones were interwoven with ivy around the food. She would have been starving were she not so afraid, jealous, even. It was the only time of year they would willingly feed her as much as she wished. There was always so much food in honor of the celebration they had no excuse not to allow her a meal.

The boar they had skewered was at its center, steaming in the frigid night with fat weeping down its sides. None for her. 

Like a queen she sweeps past them all, prodded forward by Niima. Berries crunching into the snow between her toes. The women at her back follow her at a steady pace, their chanting carrying through the trees like the moan of wind through snow laden bows. It’s a worshipful summons, laced with fright in the wavering notes. It’s punctuated by howls. Deep and guttural baying that matched the animalistic expressions on their faces.

The stamp of feet vibrate beneath her own, the sound rising louder and louder as she approaches the treeline. They would begin to dance and celebrate the moment she crossed the border into the land of death.

Rey had never taken pleasure in these nights. No matter the food she was allowed to eat. No matter the dancing or the fine clothes she could wear. Not even the break in work. A girl would die. However they tried to weave a different tapestry, the story was still the same. 

The drumming carries through the trees when they break the line. The moon’s silver beams mingle with the torches that flicker before her.

The walk feels like a lifetime, her blood throbbing in time with the music, her brain swirling with the titles of the coming storm. War bringing, wolf speaker, storm bender, cold one, old one, black one. His names seemed infinite. How many terrible things could one being encompass? Try as she might to keep her mind blank, to think of anything else. The repetitive chants were stronger and she felt she was incanting along with the rest of them. Begging silently for her own death.

When they reach the mouth of the cave Rey stops. Legs locking as the chasm looms before her.

“Into the dark now, little one.” Niima croons to her back. She has no choice but to obey. 

The cave is a dank thing. Even with the wooden floorboards and tapestries that lined it. Older than anyone can remember and reeking of ancient power. Rey avoided it on the best of days, though she had been forced to attend it when the other girls shirked their duties. If it had been terrible in the bleak sunlight, it was even worse that night.

The berries lead her all the way to the shrine within. The altar she had tended with Tallie and Kaydel sprawled out before her. She’s brought forward and helped to lay atop it. The women arrange her limbs, her gown, her crown as Niima observes. The moon peeks through the aperture above, its bright edge like a smile.

Once she is situated, the women turn to leave. Only Daaé deigns to spare her a pitying glance. One that Rey chooses to ignore. 

She lays there, still as a statue while the echo of footsteps grows faint, staring at that sliver of moon as her mind works furiously.

The moment she is alone, Rey sits bolt upright, swinging her legs over the side of the altar. Her fury overrides her fear. The crown atop her head is thrown carelessly to the ground. She is pacing back and forth. The only way in or out of this wretched place was the way she came. There would be guards stationed at the entrance of the cave and they would not hesitate to nail her to this altar.

A cry of frustration echoes through the chamber. Fists dig into the hollows of her kohl-covered eyes. Her hidden knife would do her no good against two fully armed village men any more than it would against an emissary of death. But she had to try. 

Frost begins to creep along the walls as the thought takes hold in her mind. The candles and torches flickering in the breeze. The howl of a wolf echoes from above. A real wolf this time, for its cry silences the villagers beyond. The chill that raced down her spine had little to do with the cold.

He was here. 

The moon hadn’t even covered the altar yet, Rey thought indignantly, glancing at the stone slat with irritation.

She darts across the room, digging through the decorum to palm her knife. Her free hand grasps the nearest torch. The flames waver as another gust of wind roars up the tunnel. It extinguishes the smaller candles that line the room, leaving her in near darkness. Her hands are sweaty around her feeble weapons. 

“Show yourself!” Rey shouts, unable to bear the silence.

The frost stops just short of her feet at her words. The darkness in the tunnel beyond seemed to solidify. 

Death’s emissary is a shadow in the shape of a man. His cloak black and curling behind him like smoke as he glided forward. His head is veiled in that same immaterial darkness. Silver chains gleam menacingly across it in the light of her torch. That silver is all only part of him that looked real. The rest is a nightmarish gathering of shadows, the hazy edge of the peripheral at night. 

Rey does not falter, flinging the knife at the monster with all of her might, watching it collide with what she could only assume was his head. He freezes upon impact, very nearly stumbling in a decidedly un-godlike manner. A smoky, clawed hand lifts to run across its concealed face as if she had wounded it. 

“That’s right!” Rey snarls, bravado surging through her veins as she brandishes her torch. “I am no offering. You will not touch me.”

The shadow cocks its head to the side. Hovering in place almost awkwardly a few feet away. She feels very much like a kitten pinned by a starving dog, but she does not waver. Not even as her eyes fill with tears. 

“You know I can take whatever I want.” he whispered in a deep, rumbling sigh that has her heart in her throat.

“I’m not giving you anything.” 

She throws the torch and watches in horror as it flies straight through him. One of the tapestries that adorned the walls goes up in flames. _ Shit _.

His hand reaches out before she can move, freezing her in place as it brushes her cheek. She feels cold. A jolt ripples through them, it shakes the very earth. He recoils as if burned, the shape of his head looking down at his palm. Her own hand rises to touch her face, shocked to find the wet of blood across the tips. Not her own, his. She really _ had _ wounded him.

“Go. . .” it is so soft she barely hears it. 

“Wha-”

Rey gapes at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Go ** _now_ **.” Firmer, louder. He gestures towards the incline of the cave, towards the barred aperture above “Don’t let them catch you. They will do worse than even I. ”

They. The village. The howls and the singing had stopped, replaced by confused murmuring and shouting. The world was still trembling beneath her feet and the fire was spreading down the tunnel. 

They’d kill her for heresy if she was still alive. For denying Death and desecrating this holy place. Plutt would light her pyre and beg that her ashes would be enough to sate the god of blood and war and winter.

She does not spare him a second glance as she scrambles atop that altar and throws herself at the incline. Feet kick at the few remaining torches, barely sparing a second glance as the oil soaked rugs and tapestries are engulfed in flames. 

Another rumble shakes the mountain, one that nearly sends her tumbling back into the chamber below. The voices at the mouth of the tunnel grow louder as the flames grow higher. Fingers scrape claw at the earth, hauling herself upward with all of her might until she reaches bars. They are crude things, ancient and easy to break. Her bare feet begin to blister as the flames lick up the side of the cave, fed by the rugs and flora and frippery that adorned the room. Panic aids in her escape as the rusted metal finally bends, allowing her just enough room to worm her way through.

She lays panting in the snow for a moment, choking as smoke fills her lungs. She can hear the murmur of villagers all around her now. Some inside the cave and the others in the forest surrounding. Above her the sky is clear, the stars drowned by the light of the moon that bathes her.

Rey hauls herself unsteadily to her feet a breath later, wincing as burned flesh makes contact with snow. She pays no heed to the direction she runs, only that it is the opposite of the village. 

Her thoughts are vicious and frightening ones. They would scare her later, when her heart isn’t pounding in her ears. She hopes the winds carry the flames down to the village, willing the whole damned place burns to the ground starting with chapel of bones. She bares her teeth in triumph as a chorus of fear and rage echo’s behind her. Let this be an end to their vile rituals. Let Jakku freeze in the cold and the winter’s wolves come to pick their bones.

They were at her back now, having spotted her footprints their shouts of fury shoot past her like arrows. She does not feel the cold anymore. Her limbs no longer ache from the snow and her heart is pounding too fast to hurt. They won’t catch her, _ they won’t. _

If only the moon was less bright she could use the stars to guide her path. The second of wood was unfamiliar so late. She could very well make a beeline straight towards the place she was trying to avoid if she wasn’t careful.

Rey skids to a halt on the edge of a precipice, arms pinwheeling wildly to keep her balance. A gasp catches in her throat. Her heart plummets to the pit of her stomach. 

Below her the river roars, sheets of ice from the mountains above carried swiftly along. 

Branches snap at her back and she whirls. 

“Rey… Don’t be a fool!” Plutt calls from between the trees, meaty hands gripping the wooden staff in his hands. She spits in his direction, earning an exclamation of disgust before he attempts to school his face into some semblance of kindness. The villagers behind him look less inclined to kindness. Their weapons trained on her and their faces twisted in unspeakable rage. 

“Step away from the edge now, Rey. You’re not in trouble. _ Anyone _ would be frightened. But you mustn’t let your fear control you. You must be brave and think about the others. Death and Winter must have the warmth of spring. We will die if we don’t tithe. . .” 

Rey watches him with stonily, shifting until the moon at her back casts her face in shadow. The tether on that wild thing within snaps at his words. The villagers shift anxiously, several men taking imperceptibly small steps back away from the girl. 

It was so terribly cold. . .

_ “Then die.” _

She does not recognize the voice that speaks, though it is undoubtedly her own. 

They seem frozen by her words, unable to do anything more than gape in abject horror. Part of her wishes she could savor it a moment longer. An unrecognizable part akin to that unrecognizable voice.

Rey spins on her heel as a gasp erupts behind her. She throws herself off the edge of the ravine, into the frigid river below. 


	2. The World Is Quiet Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey meets two new friends, pretends to be an amnesiac, and begins a perilous journey that leads her somewhere peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, hey guys. Sorry this is so late and sorry for the literal cliffhanger there lol. I’ve had this chapter mostly done for months, but after the TROS trailer hype and then the catastrophe that was TROS itself… I wasn’t feeling awesome and I started to rethink a lot of major plot points (I was also just too depressed to write full stop lol) I think I’ve got my shit squared away now though. Thank you all so much for your lovely comments and kudos, I'll try to respond to them all ASAP! And thank you to miss [Ellie](https://twitter.com/celestiaIrey) for being a magnificent and patient beta!  
I’ve got some exciting things planned out, all of which will be better than TROS WITH a happily ever after guaranteed!

The last thing she sees as she tumbles downward is black. It encompasses her so completely that she feels as though she’s already dead; the bitter chill of the river a far away sensation. 

It lasts for only a moment though.

The blackness recedes, reluctant, and she is left with a cold so painful it drives the air from her lungs.

Panicking, Rey kicks and flails, propelling herself towards the moonlit surface.

When she breaks, it’s with a choked gasp, water spilling from her lips only to be forced back in as the current pulls her under once more. Rey is dragged further and further downstream. Slamming into slats of ice and rock that dot the waterway. Every second feels like an eternity. Fear squeezes tight at her heart the longer she remains waterborne. The harder she tries to pursue the shore, the faster the water seems to flow. 

Her fingers finally scrabble at the rocks that line the embankment, hauling herself out. A choked sob mingles with the stinging water her lungs expelled. The rocks beneath her are slick with a sheen of ice, sending her slipping backwards, cutting her palms and scraping the whole front of her body. 

It’s determination and terror that finally pulls her free from the bank into the snowdrift above. She’s on her feet in an instant, adrenalin forcing her to move once more. It would take the villagers awhile to descend from the cliffs to the valley. They mightn’t risk following her so late at night at all. It was beyond risky to venture into the woods in midwinter. They’d let her die in the woods and find her body on a hunt in the spring when the snow had given way.

But she was not about to slow her pace and find out differently. 

She forces numb, aching legs to carry her through the trees. 

Rey isn’t certain how far she’s run. It’s by some miracle that she is so far from the village that she barely recognizes her surroundings, covered as they are with snow. The light of the moon still eclipses even the brightest stars that might guide her path.

She has no choice but to collapse to her knees, unable to venture further. She aches from head to toe. Frost bitten, bruised, broken and well into shock. Whatever force had pushed her this far had vanished like smoke in the wind. Her muzzy brain wonders how she had managed it. Where others would have perished within minutes of crawling from an icy river, she was somehow still conscious. Her heart was pounding resiliently in her chest.

Not for long though. The edges of her vision were beginning to darken, much like that shadow creature in the cave. 

The trunk of the birch tree she leans against is barely wide enough to support her as she leans against it. Her head lolls forward to rest atop her knees, tears burning her eyes. They freeze as they slide down her cheeks, cracking off her skin to fall into the snow beneath her. Her hair too begins to crystallize.  _ How is she still here? _

Rey is past caring, hazel eyes fluttering gently shut as a terrible warmth begins to take hold of her. Her brow furrows at the sensation, hands reaching up to tug at her tattered shift. It was far too warm now. Rey can’t tug the shoulders of her gown down any further. She’ll have to stand if she wants to take it off. 

Grumbling, she raises her head, only to freeze.

Before her stands a great white wolf.

It stares unblinkingly, yellow eyes locked on hazel. Where had it come from? When had it approached? There were no footprints to be seen. She wonders for a moment if she wasn’t dead and this was her spirit guide here to lead her to the afterlife. But Rey can feel its warm breath ghost across her face, steam billowing from its nose. It was real. 

It was real and it was going to eat her, Rey thought sullenly as that great snout moved closer still. It was going to rip out her throat and drag her corpse through the woods. 

Between this, freezing to death, and being a sacrifice Rey wasn’t sure which option was worse.

If the wolf would just let her be, let her curl up in her snowdrift and sleep, that mightn’t be such a horrible way to die. She would wake up in the green fields of forever beneath a blue sky. There would be no more sadness, no more pain. No more hatred. . .

“If you intend t-to eat m-me. . . at l-least wait u-unil after I d-die.” she stutters through blue lips.

The wolf merely looks at her, head tilting ever so slightly to the side. Its curiosity lasts only a moment before it leans forward to take the sleeve of her shift between sharp teeth and drag her forward. Rey lets out a groan of protest, her body rejecting the notion of movement after they had both agreed that she would sit down and die there.

“Where are we going?” the wolf doesn’t answer. Of course. Because it is a wolf.

She stumbles onward, losing her footing and falling to the ground several times. Her body is shutting down. That frustrating heat beneath her skin is nearly unbearable now.

Further and further the wolf leads her. The birch trees tower over them like an army of ghosts. 

When she begins to fear her legs will snap right off from the cold, the wolf stops, looking back at her with those fathomless eyes.

Through the thicket of trees is a rundown cottage. One she vaguely remembers in the haze of her delirium. It belonged to Teedo, a strange and silent little man that rarely ventured into town. Though he never participated in any of the festivities or church activities. Rey couldn’t say she felt safe knocking on his door and asking for help.

Her gaze is directed instead to a humble stable some distance away from the cottage. Rey’s eyes dart between the two, mistrust winning out as she hobbles toward the stable. It would not be warm, but it would keep her alive. Or so she hoped. 

The wooden door gives way to the warm scent of horses and hay. Three sets of baleful eyes peering at her through the gloom. A few nickers break the silence, followed by the uneasy stamp of hooves and swish of tails as Rey shuts the door behind her. 

“Hello lovelies…” Shivering still, she coos at the animals to the best of her abilities, inching toward the beautiful white mare nearest her. The velvet of her nose nuzzles curiously at her half frozen palm, ears twitching before backing away. 

Rey squints through the dark, praying for something that might stave off the cold. It was a sparse room, filled mostly with tack and bales of hay stacked to the ceiling. Draped across one of the stalls beside a worn old saddle though was a blanket. Beside that a pair of dirty trousers, a tunic, and a matted fur cape. Rey hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until relief and gratitude force the air from her lungs.

She stumbles towards the stall where two horses whickered gently. Hastily stripping off her still damp shift she allows the blanket to take its place. Never in her life had she been more grateful to feel the harsh scratch of wool wrapped around her. 

Weary feet drift into the stall of the white mare, towards the pile of hay furthest from the drafty door, the wolf at her heels. The horse didn’t seem bothered by her companion, none of them did. If she wasn’t so tired the thought would have kept her up all night. She’d never met a beast that hadn’t spooked in the presence of wolves before.

Rey thinks she hears it speak as she lays herself down; a sound not quite a growl, not quite a bark. She thinks she hears the horses snort in response. If her eyes had been open she then would have seen the wolf pointedly jerk its head in her direction and the horse nod in solemn in reply.

The clop of hooves draws near, a great and disgruntled sigh ruffling her hair as the horse kneels down to lay beside her. The wolf flanks her other side and their warmth seeps into her blanket. It might not be enough to save her life, but she was beyond caring as she fell into the gentle embrace of sleep. 

-

The sun is not yet risen when Rey awakens to the soft whickering of her bedfellow. The mare’s whiskers and velvet muzzle tickle her face as she groans in protest “M’up…” A hand gently pushes the offended appendage away, righting herself in the pile of hay. 

Though dotted with strange dreams, her sleep had been deep and undisturbed. She can’t recall ever sleeping so well in Jakku. Not when she was tiny and under the roof of Mistress Niima, nor when she had crafted her own space on the outskirts of town. 

Her muscles protest the action, stiff and aching as she leans against the horse. All things considered though, she felt fairly sound for someone who had spent the night with death nipping at her heels. Burns, cuts, and frostbite aside, Rey could almost say she felt  _ good _ . Life tasted so much sweeter that morning than it ever had before.

If she wants to keep living, though, she would need to get out of this region as soon as possible. She was still too close to the village to feel safe. It was only a matter of time before they found Teedo’s cottage.

Rey’s heart gives an unpleasant jolt as she considers the possibility that the Winter King had decimated Jakku in retaliation. That tiny black voice in her heart from the night before suggests it mightn’t be a bad thing. 

Why had he let her go, though? When not a single girl had been spared from his clutches, what made her special?

Rey refused to believe no one had ever fought back, that they all  _ wanted _ to be taken by him. Hundreds of winters and hundreds of women. She could not be the exception to that rule. The north demanded strength and Jakku was brimming with women forged of stone with hearts of equal coldness. She could not have been the first to throw that knife.

But perhaps she had been the first to make him  _ bleed _ .

The earth had quaked when he brushed her cheek, smearing ichor across her flesh. Rey absently ran a hand over her face, knowing it had long since washed away in the river. 

She’s angry, she realizes. Every question she posed had no answer, try as she might to construct something logical. 

_ I don’t have time for this _ , she thinks with a scowl. 

The young mare at her side nudges her again, snorting softly in her face as if in agreement.

Much like the wolf (who had vanished in the wee hours of the morning, leaving an indent in the hay beside her chosen ward) she was white in color. Not a blemish on her and brighter now in the weak light of dawn. Her great dark eyes looked down with infinite wisdom, lipping at the girl’s fingertips when they grazed over her muzzle once more. Where Teedo had stumbled across such a fine creature was beyond Rey. She could see why the mare was never brought into town. Plutt would have coveted her fiercely and forced the small man to give her up in a guise of tithe. 

“Sveta. . .” the name comes to her as fingers weave through the white of her mane. A fitting name for her bright hope. Her way out.

Teedo had two other horses after all, he didn’t need a third. . .

With the blanket wrapped ‘round her bare shoulders, Rey clambers unsteadily to her feet, hobbling toward the side of the stall. The clothes that hung over it were indeed filthy. Caked with mud and smelling of sweat and horses. They would just fit her though, and it was better than her tattered shift. 

She drops the blanket with a shiver and hastily yanks on the tunic and trousers. 

“What do you think?” Rey asks her audience, throwing her arms wide as she turns to face the horses. There was a large gap at the wrists and ankles and the trousers clung far too tight to her thighs. She’d be teased mercilessly at the village if anyone saw her like this but Rey didn’t care.

Her stomach lets out a roar of hunger that breaks the resounding silence.

Rey thinks longingly of the stacks of blin she would have eaten if she weren’t chosen this winter. The feasting lasted dusk to dawn and she would have curled beside her tiny fire and gorged herself on the cakes and berry preserves until noon.

Alas her only option here is whatever Teedo chose to feed his beasts. 

Her hands reach into the nearest bucket of feed, and Rey brings a handful of oats to her mouth. Definitely not ideal but she did not nearly freeze to death just to starve.

The stallion to her left flicked his ears in resentment, clearly uninterested in sharing his meal with the likes of her.

“Sorry…” He ignores her and presents her with his tail; an apt response, she supposes, shrugging her shoulders.

Through her mouthful of oats, she walks the room, gathering what items she’d need for her journey south. Not so much as to leave Teedo helpless, but enough to keep her alive for a few days at least. Another blanket for herself and for her intended steed, a satchel for food and a half rusted cup for water, and a dull knife. 

She makes quick work of packing and slips on the work boots that sat beside the door. Sveta seemed as keen as Rey to leave this place, prancing in place as Rey tosses the blanket over her back. She didn’t need a saddle, nor did she need reins. She’d never been allowed either and had taught herself to ride without them. All the better for her.

Rey cracks the door, peering out into the forest beyond. Fat flakes of snow fall from the sky, a good omen that brings a smile to her face. This will cover their tracks. 

Rey leads Sveta into the snow with a click of her tongue, scrambling onto her back and kicking her into a swift trot. Her hoofbeats were muffled as they left the cottage behind them. 

-

  
  


The snow had finally let up and the sun was high in the sky when she saw it: the column of smoke that rose above the trees at her back, thick and grey, even from there. A nervous shudder makes the mare beneath her prance anxiously in place. The wind carried the smell of smoke on the breeze. The snow tasted very slightly of ash when it melted on her lips…

Had the fire spread that quickly? And through the damp of the snow? Rey recalls the words she had spoken so viciously last night and the wishes that had overtaken her heart. It had even lingered into the morning, a dark cocoon around her heart that squeezed until cruelty spewed out. She’s sick with herself but refuses to dwell on it. 

Rey’s time with Niima had been miserable, though she tried her utmost not to complain. She’d been given food, though they were scraps. She’d been given clothes, though they were rags. And she’d been given a warm place to sleep, though it was on the floor beside the fire. It could have been infinitely worse. A fact that had kept her alive.

But it could have been better.

How would things have changed if Niima had stroked her hair when she had nightmares? Or bandaged her wounds when she was hurt? Would she be the same woman now if she’d been given a scrap of kindness?

For all of their wrongs, she can’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes as she and Sveta wound through the forest. It was all she had ever known, and it was in ruins. Rey averted her eyes from the smoke and ran an angry hand over her face. 

_ Enough, you’re being foolish.  _

There was nothing to miss but familiarity. Something she could easily find somewhere knew if she stayed there long enough. Somewhere better,  _ friendlier _ she could only hope.

Plutt had found her north of the village, in the mountains among the sharp, ancient pine trees. 

Or so he had told her. 

She couldn’t remember anything prior to Jakku. But perhaps that was for the best.

She had lived in Niima’s grand house until she was twelve, though the old bat would have loved nothing more than to cast her out before then. No matter how spotless Rey kept every inch of that house, no matter the meals she cooked, Niima’s ice cold heart never thawed for her. 

Only Plutt was kind –– in the way that men are kind when they want things. 

Jakku’s children were taught to ignore her, or to be cruel to her. The stray that had been brought to their home. She had endured their teasing and befriended the animals in the woods instead. The squirrels and birds and fawns that crossed her path were never afraid of her, though they would often disappear. Rey had learned from a young age that no good thing ever stayed for long. 

Her steed slows to a walk when they finally reached the outskirts of the northernmost territory. The birch trees grow sparse and the mountains loom higher at their backs. The day had passed quickly, casting long shadows through the trees. Rey longs to stop for the evening and rest, but with only some furs and a few handfuls of oats, it would be far more perilous to stop than to press onward. 

The further south they went, the less frigid it would be. 

Before they break the forest into whatever lay beyond, a flicker of white fur makes Sveta halt, ears twitching curiously. Seemingly out of nowhere the wolf had materialized once more, blocking their path.

Gazing around the clearing, Rey meets those golden eyes. “Are you… going to take us somewhere?” She feels foolish talking to the beast so plainly again, but it had led her to safety with such certainty the night before.

The wolf leads them through the last of the forests and onto a tundra that sprawled for miles. Rey had beheld it from above through the mist. The snow seemed less deep and the clusters of trees dotted throughout like small fortresses. 

Across the tundra they gallop, shadowed by the craggy mountain-scape behind them, toward the dense forest before. These trees were different. Taller and wider than the birch and maples trees that dotted the valley of Jakku and its surrounding mountains. Their roots went deep and their canopies high. Rey cranes her neck as they breach the tree line, gazing at their snowy caps with awe.

Even when hunting, Rey had never dared venture this far south. None of the village did, save for the random few that would become raiders. The handful of men that would pillage southern and coastal villages of their food and goods. Rey had stolen a bright sphere of fruit they had packed in ice and carried home. It had been so tart on the first bite she’d nearly spat it out. Niima had whipped her until she cried for that particular theft. The tang of the fruit had given way to copper.

She’d bullied one of the men into telling her what the south looked like, how it was different from their frozen home. He mumbled a few short details before scurrying off to leave her to her thoughts. Cloudless skies and days filled with so much sun the sky was never truly dark. Nights so warm that fires were scarce and you could sleep bare beneath the stars. It was rumored that some of the men had even made it to the southern seas, though none of them would describe it to her.

Rey intended to see it all. 

-

They made it to a small copse of trees as the sun began to sink and set camp beneath the bows. The snow hadn’t reached the floor here, the pines so thick they appeared like a spired house. Rey had to bend the branches to allow Sveta and herself past them. 

Once settled the girl reaches out unthinkingly, stroking the wolf’s silken fur in thanks. 

Rey catches herself a moment later and freezes “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

In reply, the wolf deigns to nuzzle her hand. As silken fur glides between her fingers, she decides on a name for her companion: Sanya.

Three days and three nights proceed much the same. Her companion leads them to shelter and they rest. The grass is long and clear enough for the horse to graze while Rey nibbled at the paltry remains of her oats. Despite their general lack, it was almost alarming how smoothly their journey had been… 

Whatever higher power forged her path, it was certainly one that wanted her alive.

She ran out of food the day they reached the end of the tundra, another forest spread out before her like the sea. There would be game she could hunt and plants she could harvest. Perhaps she’ll even find a space to settle down for awhile. 

Rey was adept at building shelters, having constructed her own on the outskirts of the village. It had been a trial and error experience as no one would help her. But she was clever. She examined the structures and mimicked them to the best of her abilities and adjusted when needed. 

The wolf leads her through the mist and trees for what felt like centuries, until Rey was sure they were lost. Her surroundings were beginning to look identical in a way the the forests of Jakku had not. Sanya’s pace had quickened a mile or so back, though, her head high and step determined. 

Rey soon sees the destination she was being led to through the dense fog.

The house between the pines paints an austere picture with its blackened beams and stone sidings. Spires tall as the trees soared towards the sky, sharp as daggers, though some parts had caved in. It looked more like a church than a home. Rey shivers at the ode to the Chapel of Death in Jakku. At least this was not made of bone. 

It was a dreadful mess, though. Her eyes rove along the crumbling stone wall that peeked through the snow around its perimeter. The front entrance was collapsed, wood and stone jutting out at odd angles like broken bones from a carcass. It looked as though no one had been there in years, eons even. There were no footprints, no signs of life at all. 

It was perfect.

There was even a stable visible off to the side of the clearing. Wrecked too, of course, but not as desolate as the house.

Dismounting from her steed, Rey trudges toward Sanya, who stood patiently off to the side of the house. She has to force herself not to run, even though her excitement bubbles in her chest like a hot spring. She wants to skip across the desolate field and fling her arms around the wolf in thanks. 

The black wooden door hangs off its rusted hinges, bent open at an odd angle, allowing heaps of snow to pile across the dark wood of the floor. 

“Hello?” Rey calls into the gloom. “Is anyone there?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin at the rapid scrabble of claws against wood that is her reply. 

From the dark emerges seven scruffy wolf pups, stumbling over too-big paws in their haste to greet their mother and her new friend. 

Rey lets out a low laugh, placing a hand over her pounding heart as she kneels to offer her hands to the swarm of puppies. Craning her neck, she quirks a brow at Sanya. “These must be yours.”

The wolf regarded her spawn with pride, nosing at the few that crowded to lick her muzzle and weave around her paws.

A tiny whine draws Rey’s attention to the back of the group. The runt of the litter whimpered pathetically at the back of the cluster, his attempts at greeting this newcomer denied. Rey watches with dismay as one of his siblings turned around and snarled, nipping so hard he yelped and cowered away, tail tucked between his legs.

“That’s quite enough of that!” she cries, shooing away the converging pups to scoop up the runt. She cradles his small body against her chest, running her fingers through downey fur as she rose to her feet once more. 

Rey had been right to assume it was abandoned, save the pack that had decided to move in.

Never had she seen a house in such disarray. Rey almost hears the bird-like shriek of Mistress Niima as she takes in the inches of dust and grime on every surface. One of her many jobs at the house had been cleaning. She had scrubbed until her fingers had bled. Niima would stand over her with a rod of birch in hand, cracking it across her shoulders if her standards of cleanliness were not met.

A frown tugs at her lips. It would take hours to make this room alone livable. The massive old fireplace at the back of the kitchen was as cold as the grave, the windows caked in years worth of grime. But otherwise it was in good condition.

Rey ventures a little ways down the hallway, still clutching the pup in her arms. The others trail behind her like ducklings as she gazes into each room. Several of the doors were locked tight and those that weren’t were in shadows so deep she could barely make out their contents. She would have to continue her exploration in the morning.

Back in the kitchen, she riffles through cupboards, pulling out jars of what she assumed was preserved fruit. Her stomach gave a growl of delight that drew the curious eyes of the pups at her feet. 

The island at the center of the kitchen was home to a number of cupboards and shelves, upon which was a number of jared and pickled foods. There was sure to be a pantry or root cellar somewhere but it was too late to go exploring in her current state. Settling on a jar of what she assumed was pickled herring and one of fruit preserves, Rey sets them aside atop the counter and approaches the cold fireplace.

The temperature was already dropping in lieu of the setting sun. She would need to build a fire and fix that broken door.

The fire was a simple task — one she completes within minutes. The door would require finesse and tools she didn’t have at her disposal. Rey sweeps the pile of snow from the entrance and props the door upright. 

Settling herself by the hearth once more, fish and fruit in hand, Rey lets the tension drain from her body. She savors every mouthful of the briny meat and the tart cherries.

Sanya appears toward the end of her meal. She lays gently beside her, pressing her warm body to Rey’s side with a huff. Barely a minute passes before the scrabble of little paws tears across the room to add to the pile. Rey finds herself utterly covered in squirming gray puppies. She can’t help but laugh, blinking sleepily down at her new blanket. 

The smile slips from her face as she settles back onto the floor, curling towards the fire. The weight of her journey settles across her, heavier than all of the pups that nestled against her from all sides and darker than the forest beyond the clearing. Her eyes sting as tears fall fast and unbidden. She snuffles quietly, reaching up to brush them away. One of her tiny companions beats her to it and licks the salt from her cheek.

Rey is exhausted. Even more so than she had been on the road. With her defenses dropped, she feels every single hurt slam into her at once. She feels the black cut on her hand and the burns on her feet for the first time in days. Rey feels the full weight of loss, of the fear that night had held, and of what the future had in store for her.

She weeps until her tears matte the fur of the puppy nearest her face. Silent sobs wrack her too-thin frame. She cries until her stomach aches and her lungs beg for air between gasps. 

Only sleep divides her from her sorrow. 

  
  


-

The first rays of sun are like knives to her tired eyes. The fire had burned to embers in the night, though Rey had not been cold. Not with the warmth of half a dozen pups sprawled across her and their mother at her side. 

In spite of her fit the night before, she feels quite well. Her wounds still ache, but her spirit feels lighter than it had in days. 

Rey basks in the relative stillness, allowing the warm light to play across her face. It didn’t take long for the pups to realize she’s awake and begin to stir, little tails wagging and bodies wriggling all around her. 

It was strange to note that she had no real responsibilities. Rey could easily laze here on the floor for the rest of the day to recuperate from her journey. No one would yell at her for loitering or cuff her for laziness. She had no one to care for but herself and the horse in the stable beyond.

Nervous energy rejects this notion though. There’s a house to explore and clean.

The runt nips at her heels as she wanders down the nearest hallway. It’s flanked by doorways, each of them shut tight no matter how hard she presses against them. The first hallway brings her to ruins. The ceiling had collapsed, blocking her path with snow and debris. Nothing she couldn’t fix in time. Rey nearly steps on the pup behind her and leans down to scoop him up into her arms again.

She retraces her steps and wanders up a flight of rickety stairs. The second floor looks in better shape. The first door brings her to a gloomy bedroom, one she would likely claim for herself later, as it was closest to the kitchen. 

The door adjacent is locked, as is the one beside it. She discovers a study filled with books and scrolls and a variety of strange objects she couldn’t begin to name. The further into the house she ventures, the stranger it becomes. For one, it was far larger than the outside suggested. So much so that Rey had hurried outside to count the windows and measure it with her eyes.

Half of these rooms shouldn’t exist.

It was another thing that caught her attention. Should she decide to retrace her steps, rooms and hallways would change. As if the house was playing a trick on her. The upstairs hallway would become the downstairs. The study would lead to another bedroom where once it brought her to a musty apothecary.

Part of Rey believes she’s gone mad. Or that she’d died out there in the snow and this run down house was her little portion of heaven.

Recalling the wilted herbs and flowers hanging about the kitchen, as well as the array of animal skulls, presents another narrative all together. She remembered the old stories. The tales the women would tell the children to keep them from straying into the forest. Try as she might to rationalize her surroundings, this could only be the house of a witch. 

Once Rey works up the courage to continue her exploration after this revelation, she discovers many more empty rooms. The saddest of which appeared to be a nursery –– one that had never been put to use. Two bassinets stood side-by-side in a room painted with stars. 

Though she was not one to believe in ghosts, the old house felt haunted by a presence. Something impossibly sad and ancient.

The next room she discovers is the most interesting by far. Off of the grandest bedroom yet was a hall that stretched on for what felt like ever. Nearly a hundred steps it took her to reach the door at the end. Beyond it lay a circular space lined with dirty mirrors. They stretched up toward the domed ceiling. Her reflections are distorted by the filth that covers the dozens of mirrors as she examines them. How resplendent this room would have been. She can’t begin to imagine what the room had been used for.

Adjacent to the mirror room is what she perceives to be the bathing room, though it was unlike anything she’s ever seen before. The octagonal tub was inlaid into the floor, surrounded by a number of strange looking knobs and levers that likely brought the water into the tub. There were an excessive number of glass bottles around too. They were colorful beneath the dust and filled with odd substances.

It was too complex for her to handle and she decides that when she bathes she would do so as she knows how.

Rey’s first task was to mend her wounds in the apothecary and attend the unkempt kitchen. 

The deepest cuts are packed with moss and bound with a length of linen, the others smeared with amber honey. It would have to suffice and would likely wear off as she worked, but it was something.

The ugly score across her palm worried her. Though it hadn’t changed and showed no signs of traditional infection, the ink black tendrils that spread across her skin made her stomach twist anxiously.

Unwilling to track all the way down to the stream to collect the water she would need to clean it, Rey clears the snow from the perimeter of the house. She melts it over the fire and begins the arduous task of scrubbing down the floor. The pups watch from doorways and atop the stairs, heads cocked as their new playmate shuffles around on her hands and knees for what feels like centuries.

Rey was in half a mind to call forth the spirit of whoever owned this place prior and scold them for leaving it in such a state. Her fingers were raw by midday, pruned and aching but blessedly warm. The wood floor, it turns out, was a rich mahogany beneath the grime, shining deep and red in the winter sun. Unwilling to half ass the job, Rey scrubs it until her reflection shone on its surface.

From the floors Rey moves on to the cabinets, then from cabinets to counters and counters to shelves. Amongst the dust she finds a wide and strange array of items. The skulls of several small animals sat perched on one shelf, grinning down at her with sharp little teeth. Those would have to go at once. As would all of the long-dead herbs that hung from the ceiling. 

She pries one of the many closed doors open with great effort, revealing a pantry which was, to Rey’s delight, filled to bursting with every imaginable canned, pickled, and preserved food. 

The sun set by the time Rey finishes her good work. Even Niima would find little to stick up her nose at. 

She even has time to spare before the light faded and strips the bedding from the room she had claimed for herself. It was far too late to polish the room from head to toe, but she would sleep in a bed that night wrapped in luxurious furs and soft sheets.

Rey finds several candles and hangs them from the kitchen ceiling, illuminating the room in gold. The pups venture back into the vicinity once they were sure the water had been put away and they were in no danger of an accidental bath. Her runt sticks steadfast by her side though, much to her delight. He observes with wise grey eyes as she sweeps, scrubs, and dusts. He yips his encouragement when her enthusiasm wanes.

With her dinner and several pots of snowmelt heating over the fire, Rey drags a small tub she had found before the hearth and begins the long task of filling it. The bathing chamber in the master bedroom would need to be cleaned as thoroughly as the kitchen before she’d dare test it out and Rey has little energy to spare tonight. She strips herself of the filthy stolen clothes and lowers herself into the basin, hissing as the water scalds her skin.

She scrubs the remnants of oil and paint and picks the soiled moss from her wounds, nose wrinkling as the water turns murky around her. How wonderful though, to feel her stiff muscles relax, to not be rushed or watched or judged. Rey could almost fall asleep like this and only a set of puppy teeth to her wrist from her newest friend keeps her from doing just that.

In one of the strange rooms she’d found a trunk full of beautiful clothes tucked away. They were as dusty and cobwebbed as the rest of the house, but they were in good condition. The moths hadn’t gotten to them. A long silken robe had been her prize that night. Rey dries herself sleepily and wraps the white silk around her shoulders, feeling luxurious and content.

Climbing the stairs, she ventures into her new room, flopping gracelessly atop the bed. Rey’s eyes close for barely a moment before a single pitiful whine breaks the silence. Her newest companion is quick to be scooped off the floor and nestled into the furs and blankets at her side.

Though she is weary, sleep does not come easy. For hours Rey tosses and turns in discomfort until the moon begins to sink across the sky. She grunts in irritation, slamming her fist against the still-musty bedclothes as her hazel eyes gaze out of the windows. She’d slept in far worse conditions with less trouble. This was a  _ palace _ compared to her hovel on Jakku. 

No matter the position she takes, the bed is simply not comfortable. Or is it the room? There was a wrongness about it that raised the hairs on the back of her neck now that she was still. The room had allowed her to clean it, but to sleep in it was apparently too much to ask. 

Her exhaustion is dragged into the realm of sleep, she assumes. Her body demands she rest.

Though it could have been the shadow that leans across her frame to press immaterial fingers to her temples, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gonna be heating up fast from here on out!! The next chapter will be Kylo’s point of view B) I’ll bake you scones if you can guess 1. The inspiration for this house and 2. Who’s house it used to be! (It's exactly what you're thinking, all of it. Here are ur scones)
> 
> [interesting facts about birch trees](http://kurochkaclothing.com/2019/04/02/birch-tree/)  
[ancient wound care](https://www.medievalists.net/2015/12/5-things-to-pack-in-your-medieval-first-aid-kit/)  
[even more ancient wound care](https://sites.google.com/site/annodomini1064/HomeSweetGnome/home/medieval-wound-treatment)  
[why the name sveta?](http://www.name-doctor.com/name-sveta-meaning-of-sveta-8435.html)  
[what is sanya a diminutive for?](https://www.behindthename.com/name/alexander)  
[ancient food preservation](http://www.lordsandladies.org/middle-ages-food-preservation.htm)  
[ pickled 👏herring 👏](https://www.grapesandgrains.org/2017/08/european-traditions-and-history-of-herring-delicacy.html)  


**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again at krispy kream!! I’ve had a few scenes floating around in my head for the better part of a year. It was supposed to be a smutty oneshot but the plot blossomed into this massive Thing that now owns me. I finally found enough inspiration and motivation to dragged myself from my pit of depression to write this puppy out! 
> 
> If you’ve read The Winternight Trilogy this one might strike a cord with you. Miss Arden and I nabbed inspo from the same fables. Also shout out to Deathless, East of The Sun & West of The Moon, the Grimm Bro's and other Slavic/Scandinavian stories from my childhood for bringing about this story as well! I'm so so so excited to share this with y'all.
> 
> A massive thank you to miss [sanktasheretic ](https://twitter.com/sanktasheretic) and [trixie_ren](https://twitter.com/Trixie_Ren)  
for beta'ing this messy beast for me. Thank you again to Ellie too for letting me screech @ her about plot details for three months.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on twitter @ [rey_exe ](https://twitter.com/rey_exe) for general reylo nonsense as well as moodboard things and what not.


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